Cocoa and Mistletoe
by southerncharm22
Summary: Knights don't always wear white or ride in on horses. Fluffy! Holidaycentric. TrevorEmily
1. Chapter 1

Title: Cocoa and Mistletoe

Rating: PG-13/ Language Content

Summary: Even Trevor can get in the Christmas Spirit

Warning: NOT BETA-ed! Trevor/Emily Why? Because, I drank way too much coffee today and they would be so freaking cute together, but yet no one writes for them.

Disclaimer: I think that fanfictiondotnet should really come up with one displayed at the top of the page like all those annoying ads they have everywhere. I don't own anything.

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The early December wind cut between the downtown buildings and slapped her making the tears that streaked her face burn. She wiped her cheeks, making them disappear with her striped cotton glove. Emily Davis wasn't crying because she was sad, she was crying because she was angry. Everyone had warned her, her best-friend, her brother, even her best-friends brother, but she hadn't listened. She'd given the handsome blonde with the perfect grin the benefit of the doubt.

She growled in frustration, pulling the hood of her coat over her head as she saw a few snowflakes starting to fall. She'd already walked at least two miles in her new shoes and her feet started killing her the moment he'd thrown her out of the car. Shoving her hands back in her pockets, her fingers brushed her cell phone. She gripped it, resisting the temptation to throw it on the pavement or at the next taxi that passed her by. What was the use in having the rhinestone covered thing when the battery died right when you needed it?

She sighed, putting more distance between her and the street behind her as she hunkered further into her scarf. She wasn't sure she could call anyone anyway. There was a degree of embarrassment to all of it. She didn't think she could take the 'I told you so,' from her best friend.

Paul 'Put-out or Get-out' Potter, it was right there in his nickname. People didn't get those things for no reason, but she'd ignored it. She'd known better, he was cute, he was popular and sometimes that's all she needed. She disliked that shallow part of her personality, the one that was more concerned with how people saw her than what grade she had made on a final exam.

However that part had been overpowered, when she'd felt his hand moving under her skirt and up her thigh. He actually thought he was being a gentleman when he'd given her the choice to climb in the back seat or walk home. _What a fucking asshole,_ she thought trying to readjust her purse on her shoulder without taking her hands out of her pockets.

She sniffled. She might be alone and freezing, but she had her pride. She just wished her pride had come with a working cell-phone or stockings.

The faint beep of a car horn behind her didn't distract her from her mission to get home. The street was nearly deserted at this hour and when it reached her ears again, she finally stopped. A black Volkswagen came to a crawl beside her, she watched from the corner of her eye as someone stepped out. Gripping her cell phone tightly, she planned to throw it at the man's head if he tried to solicit her. She wasn't naive, she knew what kinds of girls walked the streets this late.

"Emily?" the boy asked. She smiled as she recognized his voice immediately.

"Trevor?" she asked, swinging around. He was looking at her over the hood of his car, the black collar of his long wool coat pulled up to protect his neck. He was wearing a knit-cap and his dark eyes watched her with concern.

"I thought that was you," he breathed, his breath a gray puff. " What are you doing out here?" he asked, looking up and down the empty street. There was nothing on the street but the few late-night vendors closing up, the stragglers trying to rush home and Emily Davis wrapped in her pink peacoat.

"I-" she started, but stopped. She couldn't tell Trevor. "I had a date and let's just say it didn't go well and leave it at that."

"Okay," he answered slowly, glancing away. "Well, do you need a ride home?"

Relief flooded her and she hoped off the sidewalk and reached for the doorhandle.

"I'll take that as a yes then," he mumbled, pulling his own door shut.

Instantly the heat inside the car overwhelmed her exposed skin, but she could barely feel it through her layers of still freezing clothes. She pushed her shoulders into the seat behind her relieving the tension in her lower back. The next time that she went on a date with a boy she barely knew, there was no question about it, she was definitely going to wear flats.

"Thank you so much," she said, dreamily. Closing her eyes she shifted in the small seat, and let the warmth slowly seep into her every pore.

_Thank goodness for small favors_, she thought as an overall feeling of comfort and safety ran over her.

"No problem," he said. She heard the sound of crunching ice and the soft hum of the car engine as he turned the car back onto the street.

He drove in silence, no angry music, no talking on his cell phone, no telltale beep of a finished text message. Emily opened her eyes and glanced at him. His eyelashes looked ridiculously long from this angle as he did nothing but concentrate on the road ahead of them. She usually preferred lots of noise, lots of talking, lots of movement, but this was nice too.

He slowly took a corner onto a new street. "You live next-door to Casey MacDonald, right?" he asked, letting the steering wheel slide beneath his fingers as it righted itself.

"Yeah," she sniffled.

He looked at her, his dark eyebrows knitted, but his focus went back to the road ahead of him. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah," she said, wrapping her hands around her arms. "Guys are jerks."

"Thanks," he mumbled, slowing the car as he came to a red light.

"I didn't mean-" she said, her hands instantly becoming animated as she sat up.

"Relax," he interrupted. "I know what you meant."

"It's just I went out with Paul Potter and it didn't go anything like I thought it would. But I know what you're going to say, what did I expect."

"I wasn't going to say that," he said, reassuringly.

"Well, you're probably going to be the only one," she said, staring back out the window. She sighed watching the streetlights and buildings pass by them. "I was so stupid."

They rode quietly, only the sound of her sniffles breaking the silence, a few more blocks before he shifted in his seat.

"Do you like cocoa?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"What?" she answered.

"Hot-chocolate. Do you like it?"

Puzzled, she stared at him. "Yeah, I guess. But I've never heard anybody call it cocoa before."

"Maybe, you need to get out more," he said, slowing the car as he pulled it over.

"Yeah, well maybe I've been out too much," she said, looking out the window at the vendor standing in the cold. "Maybe my dad and Casey are right? I should just start focusing more on my grades and stop trying to win so many 'popularity contests.'"

He breathed heavily through his nose. "Well, I suppose that's something to think about."

"Obviously, thinking isn't something I've been doing too much of lately," she shot back.

"Okay," he said, hesitantly. "But, do you want some?" he asked, setting the car in park.

"Some, what?"

"Hot-chocolate."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "I guess. But I don't really have any cash."

He snorted. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't have any intention of paying, Emily," he said softly, looking at her with those dark eyes as if it was the most obvious thing. "So, do you want some or not?"

"Yeah, thanks."

He gave her a strange half-smile as he unfastened his seatbelt and climbed out the door. She watched him move around the front of the car, digging into his back pocket for his wallet as he addressed the small man serving hot drinks.

Sighing, she sat back and ripped off her gloves shoving them deep into her purse. She was getting too warm and unwrapping her scarf she let her eyes roam around the interior. It was surprisingly clean for a teenage boy's car, but the cherry scented air-freshener kind of confused her. A neon glow brought her attention to the radio and she read the number off the screen. It was clear that he'd been listening to a cd before he'd rescued her off the sidewalk.

Looking back out the window, she found him still talking to the vendor guy and kept her eyes on him as she slid her hand over to the volume knob. She slowly turned it up.

A harsh melody filtered through the speakers and she stared at the screen as if it could sort out her confusion. The music was of the Christmas persuasion but with a twist, instrumental but heavy on the electric guitar, it was so different.

She listened to a few more notes and was about to recognize the song when his door opened. His dark eyes shot over to the radio before they came back on her. He looked victimized for just a second but his hurt was quickly covered with indifference. He sighed, climbing into the seat as he put two Styrofoam cups into the console between them. He leaned out, reached on top of the car and retrieved a third one, handing it to her without a word. His fingers lightly gripped the volume knob and he turned the music down.

"It's really hot, so don't burn your tongue," he said, nodding to the coffee cup in her hand.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "I really like that music."

He didn't say anything, but took the top off of his drink and blew on the light brown liquid.

"Who would have thought that Mister Emo would be into Christmas."

He looked at her oddly and took a sip of his drink, before putting it back in its cubby hole.

"I'm not Emo," he said, starting the car and pulling out into the street. "And, honestly how often can you listen to Joy to the World done with Jon Oliva?"

"Who?"

His lips twitched. "Google it."

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked, blowing through the tiny hole in the top of her drink.

"A little," he answered.

She laughed at his honesty, shaking her head.

"Thirsty much?" she asked, looking at the third cup between them.

"What?" he asked, his eyes darting to her and then the cup and then the road. "That's for my sister."

"Oh," she said.

"She's pregnant," he answered, as if that cleared up any confusion she may have had. He sounded weird and she watched him as he reached for his cup. He blew on the top and took a sip.

"Boy or girl," she asked.

"She doesn't want to know," he answered, one handedly taking the street that would eventually bring her home. "Everything's in green."

"Mint is the new pink," she chimed. "But, what do you want? A niece or nephew."

He put the cup back in its home. "I don't think that matters," he said. "But I wouldn't mind a nephew."

"What's wrong with a niece?" she said, slightly affronted.

"Girls are too damn complicated," he answered, but she watched his eyes squint.

"That's not fair," she argued, slapping his arm.

"Yeah, well what's not fair is that I have a sister instead of a brother," he answered, gripping the steering wheel. "See, if I had a brother I wouldn't be driving around in the freezing cold at ten o'clock on a Friday night looking for an open street vendor."

"Yeah, but then I'd still be walking home," she said, taking a sip of the warm beverage. He was right, it stung her tongue a little, but it tasted decent. She hadn't had any since she was a little girl and just the bittersweet flavor made her shiver.

"Well, I suppose it wasn't a total loss then," he confessed, watching her from the corner of his eye.

He slowed, moving around Derek's fairly new car, and coming to a stop right in front of her house. The livingroom light was still burning and she could see their Christmas tree lit in the window.

She meant to tell him thanks for the ride and the hot-chocolate, but she did neither.

"You have a nice car," she said.

"Thanks, but it's not mine," he responded, casually.

She raised her eyebrows and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's my sister's."

"The pregnant one?" she asked, taking another sip of her drink. She didn't know why she was being so inquisitive, but as long as he answered, she didn't care to stop.

"The other one," he answered, quickly. "Could you really picture me driving this?"

She studied him for a moment, her eyes traveling to all the parts she missed between passing him in the halls. It looked as though he'd missed a haircut and his lips looked a little pinker than she remembered them. The cold had made his cheeks flush which only made his dark eyes almost black behind his ridiculously long eyelashes. It was enough to make her jealous. His long gloved-fingers wrapped loosely around his cup as he gracefully took a sip of his drink. _No_, she decided. _I really couldn't see him driving this car._

"Okay, since this little punch-buggy is _so_ beneath you. What is your dream car?" she asked, taking a small sip of her drink. It was still too hot.

"I didn't say this car was beneath me," he explained, putting the cup in the console.

"Sorry," she said, feeling her face warming. "I just wanted to know what you would be driving if you could choose."

"Impala," he answered. "Something vintage."

Emily didn't know what he was talking about at all, but that didn't stop her from lying. "Now, that I could totally see you in."

He looked at her his dark eyes smiling, "You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"

"Sorry," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders apologetically. "I don't know anything about cars, except that I can't have one 'til I raise the money myself. House rules."

"Well, that sucks," he said, turning the car off.

"Don't I know it," she said, watching as he took the keys from the ignition. "But whining isn't going to do anything about it, I'm not Casey, so I guess I have to be okay with it."

"Are you?" he asked, turning to look at her. There was an earnestness in his eyes that made her face warm. He looked away, his eyes resting on the car-lined street.

"What?" she asked, slightly confused at the change of subject.

"After whatever happened with Potter," he asked, his gloved fingers scratching an imaginary tear on the vinyl steering wheel.

Emily looked down at her hands wrapped around her cup, "I guess, I hadn't really thought about it. I've just been having such a good time..."

"Well, how's the cocoa?" he interrupted, as if he didn't want to hear anymore.

"You mean the hot-chocolate," she corrected.

"Toe-mate-toe, Tomato," he answered, dryly.

"It's good," she answered. "Not great, but it really cheered me up. Thanks," she answered.

"Well, then," he said, and even in the bad lighting she could see his face turning red. "I guess it did the trick."

She didn't say anything because he didn't say anything. They just listened to the rhythmic melody of the soft music coming from his sister's speakers. When the song ended, he sighed.

"I should probably walk you up," he said, looking past her at the front door.

"Yeah, you should," she mocked, opening her door. He climbed out the driver's side. "I was just kidding, you really don't have to, "she said, over the hood, before shutting her door.

"It's ten feet, Emily," he answered. "It's not going to kill me. Unless of course you have a bottomless pit hidden somewhere in your yard."

She laughed as she waited for him by the passenger's door. She blew on her hands, rubbing them together to generate warmth. She regretted shoving them into her purse.

They reached her front steps faster than she would have liked and he gave her an amused smile as she fidgeted nervously with her keys. She wanted him to move closer, to give her a sign that this wouldn't be the last time he walked her to her front door, but he didn't. He just shifted his weight from foot to foot trying to stay warm.

"I suppose this is good night, then," he said, through his bright chattering teeth.

" I guess so," she smiled back.

"Well, good night," he answered, turning to leave, but she caught his arm turning him back toward her.

She had always been aggressive. It was in her nature to win. It was why her mother banned her playing sports at a young age and why no one ever wanted to play board games with her. This time was no different.

She didn't hesitate when she kissed him and after the initial shock wore off, he didn't hesitate to kiss her back. His lips were shy, and she had to coax him a little to make him open up. She didn't regret the work it took, when he let her in. His mouth tasted like bittersweet chocolate and one of his hands gently slid into her hair as the other rested lightly on the small of her back. It made her feel safe.

He was the first to pull away, his heavy breaths like grey clouds around his head.

"Why'd you just do that?" he asked, his dark eyes almost black.

"Because you wouldn't," she countered, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"I would've, I just thought that after being kicked out of car..." He breathed deeply taking a step away from her. "I just thought that you'd be a little put-off if I tried anything."

"Oh," she said, realization dawning on her, it made regret her decision even less.

"The thing is Emily, I know why I would do it," he answered. "But why would you?"

She smiled at him, pointing her finger to a small space above their heads. His black eyes darted up and he snorted.

"Oh, I see," he mumbled, taking a few steps backward. "Mistletoe, you kissed me because of the mistletoe."

Emily sighed, walking the three steps it took to reach him. _Why does he have to be so damn sensitive?_ She grabbed the collar of his jacket.

"You're not under the mistletoe anymore," she observed, before kissing him soundly on the mouth. His lips were soft, but she pulled back, looking him right in the eye. He looked nervous almost anxious as if he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. She smiled at him.

"Merry Christmas, Trevor."

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TBC 


	2. Ice and Aspirin

Title: Cocoa and Mistletoe

Chapter: (2/6) Ice and Aspirin.

Rating: PG-13 Language/Content

Summary: A kiss isn't always a kiss.

Warning: Trevor/Emily Why? Because I love them so.

Disclaimer: I think that fanfictiondotnet should really come up with one displayed at the top of the page like all those annoying ads they have everywhere. I don't own anything.

Author's Notes: After being inspired by writer and spurrer of muses soulmatesDC, I've decided to drag this from one-shotdem and a few more chapters and see where it goes. I hope you don't mind. A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter y'all's words really do mean a lot. Thanks. I'm well aware that spurrer and shotdem aren't real words.

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_She had always been aggressive. It was in her nature to win. It was why her mother banned her playing sports at a young age and why no one ever wanted to play board games with her. This time was no different. _

_She didn't hesitate when she kissed him and after the initial shock wore off, he didn't hesitate to kiss her back. His lips were shy, and she had to coax him a little to make him open up. She didn't regret the work it took, when he let her in. His mouth tasted like bittersweet chocolate and one of his hands gently slid into her hair as the other rested lightly on the small of her back. It made her feel safe. _

_He was the first to pull away, his heavy breaths like grey clouds around his head. _

"_Why'd you just do that?" he asked, his dark eyes almost black. _

"_Because you wouldn't," she countered, shoving her hands into her pockets. _

"_I would've, I just thought that after being kicked out of car . . . " He breathed deeply taking a step away from her. "I just thought that you'd be a little put-off if I tried anything." _

"_Oh," she said, realization dawning on her, it made regret her decision even less._

"_The thing is Emily, I know why I would do it," he answered. "But why would you?"_

_She smiled at him, pointing her finger to a small space above their heads. His black eyes darted up and he snorted. _

"_Oh, I see," he mumbled, taking a few steps backward. "Mistletoe, you kissed me because of the mistletoe."_

_Emily sighed, walking the three steps it took to reach him. Why does he have to be so damn sensitive? She grabbed the collar of his jacket. _

"_You're not under the mistletoe anymore," she observed, before kissing him soundly on the mouth. His lips were soft, but she pulled back, looking him right in the eye. He looked nervous almost anxious as if he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. She smiled at him. _

"_Merry Christmas, Trevor."_

"Emily?"

The sound of his soft voice bluntly dragged Emily from her amorous thoughts and a combination of disappointment and heat flooded her. He was still standing beside her, but his lips weren't kiss swollen and his hands weren't holding her close to him. Instead his earlier expression of weather induced discomfort was replaced by a mix of concern and confusion.

"What?" she said, her voice sounding flat and far off.

"Hey, are you okay? You kind of spaced out there for a second," he explained, gently grabbing the crook of her arm as if she might suddenly fall.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered, shaking her head slightly.

"You sure?" he asked, his eyebrows knitted and his dark eyes moving over her face.

"Yeah, I'm good," she answered, smiling and looking away. Despite the frigid air her face was burning and she prayed that the tiny lights her father had hung off the roof were too dim for Trevor to see her red cheeks.

"Okay then," he said, slowly releasing her arm and slipping his gloved hand into his pocket. He tilted his head away, his eyes darting to the road before they came back to her. "Well, it's getting late so I should probably go."

"Yeah," she reluctantly answered, her mind still jumbled from her earlier thoughts. "I guess I'll see you at school then."

His black eyes dodged her own as he nodded, grinned and slowly stepped away from her. His hands stayed deep inside his pockets as he turned and started down the steps. She watched him as he slowly walked along the concrete sidewalk that led to her front porch and a thought suddenly came upon her. She didn't have his number.

"Trevor."

He turned quickly and for half-a-second she smiled before he went crashing to the ground in a blur of black wool.

"Oh, crap," she called, rushing down her steps and across her frozen lawn. He was laying on his back in the middle of her walkway grumbling unpleasant words when she reached him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking down at him. She would have knelt, but her knees would have never forgiven her.

He sat up, reaching one hand behind his head and massaging his skull through his knit cap. "Yeah," he answered, his eyes not connecting with hers.

"What happened?" she asked, offering her hands for support.

"I don't know," he answered, his eyes resting on her hands for a moment before finally taking them and hoisting himself to his feet. "I think I hit some ice or something," he explained, slowly letting her hands go and letting one of his hands roam back to his head.

She grimaced, looking up at him, "I'm _so_ sorry."

"For what?" he asked, his squinted eyes looking at her quizzically.

"Well, I guess if I wouldn't have yelled at you, you probably wouldn't have fallen," she explained, crossing her arms and giving him an apologetic grimace.

"Oh, that." He smiled. "Don't worry about it," he said, carefully shaking his head. "So, what did you want anyway?"

"Oh," she said, feeling her face warm again."Uh, it was nothing. Never mind,"

His dark eyes watched her skeptically, but then his eyes slowly moved away looking at something beside her. Reaching with one hand, he pulled his knit cap off and gently rubbed his fingers through his black hair. "God, that really hurt."

Guilt wormed its way in and suddenly the pit of her stomach felt icy. "You don't have a concussion, do you?"

He gave a small snort giving her one of his intellectually superior looks. "Well, I really wouldn't know."

"Well, my mom would," she answered, feeling vaguely annoyed. "Do you want to come inside and let her look at your head?"

"No, that's cool," he said, his voice softened, as he looked past her to her house. "I don't want to bother anybody."

"No, really. My mom won't mind. C'mon," she said, grabbing his free wrist and dragging him behind her. He followed her obediently across the lawn, up the stairs, and stood quietly by her side as she opened her father's multiple locks.

Inside her house was dimly lit and the sudden warmth blasting from the heater was welcomed, but slightly overwhelming and Emily didn't waste any time as she began to peel away her many layers of clothing, leaving most of the garments on the back of the new couch. She turned around as she unwrapped her scarf and found Trevor still standing by the door. He looked uncomfortable not leaving the safety of the doormat, as if he feared dripping melted snow on the wood floors.

"Just make yourself comfortable," she ordered, "I'm gonna go and get my mom."

"Emily, I'm okay," he said, unfastening the large black buttons on his coat. "It really doesn't hurt that much."

"Well, I should at least get you an ice pack," she said, resting her hand on the headrest of their couch.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I think my head's seen more than enough ice for tonight," he answered.

"Oh," she said, glancing at the handmade ornaments, the multicolor balls and white lights that wrapped their Christmas tree. "Are you sure you don't want me to get my mom?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he answered, wrapping his scarf around his now bare hand. "Thanks, but I'm okay."

"Well, are you thirsty?" she asked, feeling like a complete idiot the second the words left her mouth. She looked away, ruefully smiling to herself at the thought of her forgotten hot chocolate.

He looked at her for a moment as if he had the same idea, but he just smiled, "I'm good."

She sighed, crossing her arms. "Can I get you _anything_?" she asked lightly, trying to be a good-humored hostess. "I mean you rescued me off the side of the street, brought me all the way home and I repay you by making you slip on a freak ice puddle, I can at least get you an aspirin or something."

He gave a short laugh, "I'll take an aspirin then."

"Good, I think we keep it in the bathroom," she answered, "I'll be right back okay. Just make yourself comfortable or something."

Her boots clicked on the wooden floor as she moved up the stairs and up on the houses first landing. Straightaway she opened the bathroom door and flicked on the complete series of light switches lighting the small room. Opening the small mirror-like door she searched the well-organized top shelf. Moving her father's heart medication and her brother's chewable vitamins out of the way, she grabbed the oversized bottle she needed. Quickly, she unscrewed the child-safety top and shook four pills into her hand immediately dropping two back into the plastic container.

Closing the cabinet door the clean mirror gave her the first good look at herself she'd had since Trevor had found her on the side of the road. She cringed at her reflection. Her eyeliner and mascara were now smudged black trails beneath her eyes and against her cheeks. Her carefully applied brown lip gloss was everywhere but on her lips. Her nose was nearly maroon from the combination of tears and cold. Her brown hair looked unkempt and wild behind her thin pink headband. She looked terrible.

_I look like a freaking rabid raccoon,_ she thought trying not to dwell on the fact that this was the face Trevor had seen all evening.

She put the two small pills into her skirt pocket. Snatching a few tissues out of the box that her mother kept by the sink, she immediately began wiping away the signs of her disastrous night not caring that most of her makeup rubbed off with it. Her hand went to the box three more times before she was finally satisfied that she looked half-presentable.

Turning off the lights and quietly closing the door, she took the steps two at a time landing noiselessly on the bottom stair. He was no longer standing by the door, but by their Christmas tree his eyes studying an ornament she had made while still in daycare.

He didn't seem surprised when his eyes cut over to her.

"Is this you?" he asked, pointing at the tiny green and red popsicle picture frame.

"Yeah," she answered, walking over and digging into her pocket for the tiny pain relievers. "I was three or four I think."

"Well, I don't know them, but your parents should be imprisoned for that haircut," he said, chuckling.

"Hey," she said, playfully slapping him on the arm. "Big bangs were very in that year."

"If you say so," he answered, giving her a half-smile his black eyes reflecting all of the tiny white lights.

"Take this," she said, putting the two small pills into his warm palm.

"Thanks," he answered.

"You can sit down if you want," she said, trying to hide the blush rising in her cheeks and moving around the coffee table. She plopped down crossing her legs at the knee and unzipped her boot sliding it off before she started on the next. "Unless you have to get back home."

He audibly sighed, his dark eyes glancing passed their decorated tree and through their frosted windows to his sister's car parked on the street.

"She can wait," he barely mumbled, gracefully stepping around the table and carefully sitting in the far corner of the couch she occupied.

Through her striped socks she tried rubbing the sharp soreness from her abused feet, but it didn't work and she nearly cried out when she tried to curl her toes. Vowing never to wear those stupid boots again or take Casey's advice when it came to fashion, she rubbed the bottom of her feet on the couch cushion between them.

"Nice tree," he commented, once again dragging her away from her flighty thoughts. She turned her head and looked at him questioningly. His long eyelashes fluttered as his eyes roamed over her family's tree and moved down to the carefully wrapped presents that were scattered beneath it.

"Are you being sarcastic, again?" she asked, watching him through slightly narrowed eyes.

"No," he chuckled lightly, his smiling eyes meeting hers, but he quickly sobered looking away. "Why would you say that?"

"'No reason," she answered, tucking her feet underneath an oversized green chenille throw-pillow. "You're just not exactly Captain Positive."

"Oh," he answered, staring at his long fingers fiddling with his dark scarf. A muscle ticked along his pale cheek, his chapped lips stretched into a straight line, but besides that he seemed indifferent to her statement.

"I-uh- I didn't mean that as like an insult or anything," she quickly answered, her words nearly tumbling over each other. "You just don't say that much."

He sighed, shrugging. "Well, maybe I think if you're going to say something it should be something worth saying." He looked at her. "Talking shouldn't just be noise."

She crossed her arms and let out an audible scoff. "Is that a shot at me Trevor Adolfo?"

He looked surprised for a moment, but grinned at her. "Maybe," he answered.

Despite herself, she laughed and her eyes landed on something left on the wooden coffee table. "Do you want to watch TV?" she asked, reaching onto the tabletop and snatching up the remote.

"Actually, I should probably get moving?" he said, his voice sounding genuinely regrettable.

"Really," she answered, not caring to hide her disappointment.

"Yeah, if I don't get my sister her cocoa soon," he explained, wrapping the scarf around his neck as he slowly stood. "My entire cd collection will probably be in a million pieces on the front lawn."

"What? Why would she do that?" she asked, standing and following him to the front door.

"She's very emotional," he said as if that should clear up any doubt. He gingerly slid into his black coat slowly fastening each button. "It's scary."

"Sounds like it," she answered, returning his smile. "Talking to you makes me so happy that I only have brothers."

"Don't rub it in," he answered, turning the knob and opening the door.

"So, I guess this is good night, _again_."

"Yeah, I guess it is," he agreed, "But I'll try not to bust my ass leaving this time."

"We can only hope," she answered.

"Well, thanks for the aspirin," he said, his fingers on the handle of the gold handle of the storm door.

"Thanks for the ride," she replied, quickly crossing her arms at the cold air seeping through.

"No problem," he replied, tucking his scarf into his coat. "Just stop dating jerks who put you out on the side of the road."

"Maybe I should just stop dating jerks all together," she answered, lifting her eyebrows.

"Yeah, maybe," he said darkly. His pink lips twitched and he gave her a sad smile. "Goodnight Emily."

"Trevor," she nearly shouted and he seemed taken aback by her sudden outburst.

"Yeah," he asked, looking almost afraid of her.

"Well, are you doing anything on Boxing Day?" she asked, her eyes watching the snow falling in swirls in the night air.

"Probably not," he answered.

"I was just wondering... If you're not doing anything with your family or whatever . . . If you'd want to hang out or something," she asked. That indefinable emotion than linked hope and rejection was overtaking her as she stared at the one slightly-loose shiny black four-hole button in the center of his coat.

"Why?" he asked, putting on his gloves and flexing his now black fingers.

"I don't know," she answered, feeling her face burn all the way to her ears. "I just thought . . . You know what never mind. Please, just forget I said anything."

He sighed. "Well, I mean . . . If you still want to I'm probably not doing anything," he said softly. "So just call or email me."

"I would, but I don't have your number," she said, finally looking up in his eyes.

"Well, here," he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out his thin phone. "Just put your number in there and I'll put mine in yours."

"You can't mine's dead," she answered, remembering the drained cell-phone in her purse as she flipped the ultra-thin receiver on his phone open. She'd seen the ads for this new mobile and it was just as nice in her hand as it was in the commercials. The background was a one-eyed dog with long a nose and floppy brown ears.

"Is this like an album cover or something?" she asked, turning it around to show him.

He laughed, "No, that's Honey. She's a basset hound."

"Yours?"

"Yeah, I found her in a pile of leaves in front of my house," he explained, shrugging. "Some asshole hit her and kept going so my step-mom and I brought her to my Dad's clinic."

"Really," she said, programming her number into his overpriced black phone.

"No," he replied.

"What?"

"I'm joking," he answered, shaking his head. "Yeah it really happened, it's why she only has one eye."

"That's so sad," she said, getting her last look at the asymmetrical face and closing his phone.

"Not really, she's a spoiled brat," he said chuckling.

The phone unexpectedly vibrated in her hand and Emily jumped.

"I think that's for you," she slowly said, handing the phone to him.

He read the small lit screen on the outside of the phone and cursed under his breath shoving the thin device into the wide pockets of his coat.

"That's my sister. I gotta go," he said, giving her half-smile. "But, I'll call you tomorrow."

He opened the storm door and she shivered at the sudden frigid air one arm around her stomach as she held the door open.

"Hey Trevor," she said, and he turned around holding the door open with one hand.

"Yeah," he asked.

"You're under the mistletoe."

As he looked up, she stepped forward and kissed him. His cheek was soft beneath her lips, her eyelashes bent against his temple and when she stepped away his fair skin was bright pink.

"Merry Christmas, Trevor."

"Merry Christmas, Emily," he said, smiling.

TBC...

* * *

Authors Notes: Okay, so what did y'all think? 


	3. Mall Crowds and Sugar Cookies

Title: Cocoa and Mistletoe

Chapter: Sugar Cookies and Mall Crowds

Rating: T / PG-13

Summary: Phone calls are answered and plans are made.

Warning: Not BETA'd!

Disclaimer: I got nothing. No, I don't own anything.

* * *

_So delicious (it's hot, hot)_

_So delicious (I put them boys on rock, rock)_

_So delicious (they wanna slice of what I got)_

_I'm Fergalicious (t-t-t-t-t-tasty, tasty)_

Emily's eyes opened at the sound of her cell-phone's familiar ring. Not lifting her head, she glanced at the clock mounted on her bedroom wall. It was still before noon.

What in the heck could Casey want at this hour? Didn't she know vacations were for catching up on your beauty sleep?

Rolling over she grabbed the small device off her night stand, simultaneously unplugging it from the charger it had been hooked to since she'd gone to bed. After reading the small screen and not recognizing the number, she put the phone back in its place on the night stand. It was much too early to be dealing with wrong numbers.

Snuggling back down into her warm covers, she was ready to drift back off to sleep when the familiar beep of a text-message having been received stopped her. Groaning, she grabbed her phone again and in the dim light beneath her cover she read the message.

_NOT TECHNICALLY A CALL._

Confused, she stared at the small screen, but suddenly the phone beeped.

_ITS TREVOR BTW._

Smiling, she threw off her cover and used her thumb to message him back.

_FYI MOST NORMAL PEOPLE ARE ASLEEP._

She laughed at her response, before jumping at the loud ring of her phone.

_So delicious (it's hot, hot)_

_So delicious (I put them boys on rock, rock)_

""I'm not normal," he said.

"Right about that. You actually called when you said you would. Most boys just leave you hanging for a couple of days and if you dare to actually call them suddenly you're a stalker."

"Well, I'm not most boys," he said, laughing. "Besides, you can stalk me all you want."

Emily ignored his last comment, but she didn't stop the smile that tugged at her lips. "What is that supposed to mean? You're not like most boys."

She heard him snort on the other end of the phone. "Well, not the ass-holes you date."

"Well, maybe you should change that," she said, biting into her lip.

The pause was long and despite the fact that she couldn't see his reaction it didn't stop her face from growing hot or curb her urge to squirm.

"So what're you doing?" he asked, his voice sounding flat.

"At the moment, laying in bed in my pajamas," she yawned, sitting up and stretching her free arm.

"It's nine-thirty," he said, factually.

"Oh, please tell me you're not a morning person," she said, squeezing her eyes shut as she leaned against her headboard.

"I'd be lying."

She giggled. "Okay, why didn't you date Casey, again?"

He didn't answer and Emily had that odd sensation that she had said the wrong thing. Blinking, she pulled her knees up to her chest and slipped her fingers beneath the hem of her pajamas and scratched her now itching shin.

He made a noise that sounded like he was clearing his throat. "So, what're you doing today?"

"I'm probably just going to sit around and watch Casey wrap presents or something."

"All day?"

"Yeah, she's got this like a colour-coded system thing. It's weird."

"I'm not disagreeing."

"Why'd you want to know? What's up?"

"Well, you're a girl."

"Yeah, last time I checked."

"I wasn't asking."

"Good, I was kinda hoping that you'd noticed."

He didn't say anything for a moment, but made another weird noise.

"Well, I mean . . . If you're doing something with Space don't worry about it."

"C'mon Trevor, first you ask me if I'm a girl and then you tell me- Wait, did you just call Casey, Space?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. It's kind of a habit."

She laughed. "Don't be sorry, just tell me what you need. It's the least I can do after last night."

"Nah, don't worry about it."

"Tell me or I'll just keep asking."

He sighed. "All right, I need to go and pick up my stepsister's Christmas present and I have absolutely no idea, what to buy a nine-year-old Kelly Clarkson wanna-be."

"Okay."

"So, do you want to ride to the mall? I mean . . . If you don't want to that's cool too."

"Sure,"

"You don't have to."

"No, I want to. I just don't think you're as smart as I thought you were."

He scoffed. "What?"

"Waiting 'til Christmas Eve to go shopping. Not a very smart move, Adolfo."

"Yeah, well at least I've never . . . " His voice trailed off, but she had already caught the superior note that she'd heard him use with other people before. She was suddenly very annoyed.

"_At least I've never what_ Trevor?" she asked earnestly, turning on her bed and adjusting her phone against her opposite ear.

He didn't answer and she had a sneaking suspicion that he had been referring to what happened between her and Peter 'Put-out or Get-out' Potter.

"Well, c'mon 'Mister I only speak if it's worth saying'?" she demanded, through a deceptively sweet voice.

"Nothing," he said softly. Her sudden irritation dissipated faster than it had grown, but she could still feel the humiliation burning in her cheeks.

"So, what time did you want to go?"she asked.

"I don't know. I don't hang out at the mall that much but I guess the earlier the better, right."

"Yeah, but I gotta get ready first,"she said, her eyes superstitiously moving toward her closet.

"So, I"ll pick you up in two hours."

"How long do you think it takes me to get ready?"

"You said you were a girl right?" he said flatly.

Emily narrowed her eyes. "I'll see you in an hour."

"Wow, an hour," he said dryly. "I didn't know you were 'The Flash'?"

"The who?" she asked, giggling and feeling her eyebrows knit.

"Nobody," he answered, lightly. "I'll see you when I see you, Emily,"

"Bye Trevor," she said, shaking her head.

"Bye," he said.

No matter how hard she tried Emily couldn't stop smiling. It took her longer than she had thought to get ready, the hot-water had run out quickly and she'd been forced to endure a cold shower, but mostly she couldn't choose which red sweater to wear. After having finally decided on an appropriate outfit, she couldn't get her makeup just right, her eyeshadow continued to smudge together in a light-grey and green mess beneath her eyebrows. Two ruined make-up sponges later she was finally satisfied with her appearance.

Downstairs she searched the house for her mother and oddly enough found the older Davis woman in the kitchen baking. Dozens and dozens of cookie lined pans decorated their kitchen counters and dining room table.

"Did I miss something?" she asked, grabbing her pink coat off the chair where she left it and looking around at the dozens of plain sugar cookies.

"Yes, your grandmother called and apparently _your_ father's family will be here by this afternoon, "she said, using her thin spatula and prying up another cookie before setting it carefully on the festive plate.

Emily quickly noted the undertone in her mother's words and nearly took a step back at her cold voice. She wasn't happy. "Why?" she asked.

"I don't know," she snapped, using the back of her flour coated hand to wipe a thick lock of hair away from her forehead.

"Well, is there anything I can do before I go to the mall?" she asked, putting her heavy coat back on the chair.

Her mother gave her an odd but genuine smile and Emily had no doubt that she had suddenly said the wrong thing.

* * *

Emily's forearms were burning from stirring the thick cookie dough when her phone began vibrating against the wooden table. Wiping her hands against the seasonal dishtowel her mother had handed her earlier, she quickly snatched up her phone and put the device to her ear.

"Ready yet?" Trevor asked, his voice a little distant.

"Yeah, where are you?"

"About two minutes from your house," he answered. "Do you want me to come up to the door or just slow the car down and you can jump in?"

Emily laughed at his question, but suddenly it sobered her and her smile fell. If Trevor came to the door than she would have to introduce him to her mother. It would be the only thing to do there was no getting around it.

"Um, you can just park in the front I'll be out in like a second," she answered, an unpleasant feeling beginning to gnaw painfully at the ends of her conscious.

"Okay," he said slowly, as if the question had been rhetorical or that he'd been expecting a different answer. His voice made the gnawing worse. She felt like an ungrateful bitch. "I'll be in my mom's car."

"'Kay," she answered, grabbing her coat off the end of the chair. "I'll see you in a sec."

Closing her phone, Emily turned to her mother.

* * *

His mother's SUV was much larger than his sister's tiny VW and it had taken Emily two attempts before she'd been able to pull herself into the black car. She quickly unwrapped her scarf and unbuttoned her peacoat as she settled into the seat inside the warm car.

She could feel his dark eyes watching her, but she ignored him as she snapped the safety belt into place. He was dressed very much the same as he had been the night before, minus the scarf and the fact that his hair now looked like as if it had been fixed. Unable to ignore him any longer, she turned to face him.

"What?" she asked, giving him an inquisitive smile.

"Were you cooking?" he asked, his black brows knitted.

"Yeah, my mom suckered me into helping her," she said, giving a slight snort. "How d'you know?"

"You kinda smell . . . Sugary . . . Like cookies," he answered, checking the street ahead and then his rearview mirrors, before pulling out into the street.

"Dammit. Really?"she asked, grabbing the collar of her red sweater and taking a deep breath. Trevor was right that odor had seeped into her clothes. Sighing, she let the v-neck collar of her sweater fall back against her chest. She didn't want to smell like cookies. Five-year-olds with milk mustaches smelled like cookies, not confident seventeen-year-old women trying to smell nice.

He laughed. "Yeah, but I mean . . . It smells good. It just . . . "

"Just what?" she said, crossing her arms as he turned onto the main street and let the steering wheel slip beneath his gloved fingers.

"It's just kind of making me hungry," he said, giving her a half-smile before his eyes darted back to the road.

"Well, you can eat a pretzel when we get to the mall," she said, giving him a smile.

"Sounds tasty," he said dryly, shaking his head.

Emily laughed more at his naivete than his sense of humour. "Well, you better grow to like it because we'll probably be waiting in a line 'til dinner."

He gave her a look of pure shock and horror before staring back at the road. He sighed.

"At least I like the company," he mumbled, before turning the volume up and filling the car with his own version of Holiday classics. Emily smiled, staring out at the snow-covered lawns as they past by. This music was really starting to grow on her.

TBC...

Thank you for reading.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter was so short and a wee bit on the boring side, but I'm hoping that the next chapter is out soon and a wee bit longer. Special thanks to soulmatesDC because she can really get my muse to dance when it comes to this story. Again, thank you for reading and a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed. Words equal encouragement! ; ) 


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